


Hold My Hand (I'll Walk With You, My Dear)

by TheMipstaz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bathing/Washing, F/F, Mentions of Past Depression, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nonbinary Kira, Other, Protective Malia, Theo is an asshole, mentions of transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ugh, I feel like shit. Can we just, like, take a bath or something? I feel super gross.”</p><p>Malia still wants to storm out to strangle Theo with his own intestines, but she forces herself to take a calming breath in order to be the supportive girlfriend Kira needs right now. “Sure thing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold My Hand (I'll Walk With You, My Dear)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doctorkaitlyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/gifts).



> Kira uses they/them pronouns. [Kaitlyn](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) requested: ♤:Taking a bath together + Malira Originally posted [here](http://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com/post/141872519615/taking-a-bath-together-malira). Title from [Little Talks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghb6eDopW8I).

“I’ll fucking kill him!” Malia snarls. “Just say the word, Kira, and no one will ever find the body.” She slams the door closed behind her with an angry bang. Adrenaline pumps through her veins, but it’s less _I chased my teary-eyed Kira all the way from the Panda Express to our shared apartment on the other side of campus and am out of breath_ and more _I’m going to slug Theo so hard his balls come up his throat._

Kira doesn’t say anything. Instead they wrap their arms tighter around themselves, bury their face in their pulled up knees, and try to sink deeper into their favorite cushy chair.

Malia continues to rage, blood boiling and eyes flaring electric blue. “God, I can’t believe Theo said that to you. Actually, you know what? I do believe it because I’ve always known he was an epic douche-face.” She wants to hit something, but doesn’t think the landlord will appreciate yet another fist-shaped hole in the wall. She’s already pretty sure they’re not getting their security deposit back.

“Stop, Malia,” Kira mumbles into her knees, voice tired and weary. “It’s done. Beating up Theo isn’t going to help anything.”

“He made you cry!” Malia growls, pivoting on her heel as she furiously paces. “I don’t care if he is Scott’s long lost childhood friend or whatever; he called you a girl and a freak. Doesn’t that matter to you?”

“Of course it does,” Kira snaps back sharply, jerking their head up. Then the moment of fire passes, and they deflate again, shoulders slumping. “Can we just not talk about it right now? It’s been kind of a rough week.”

Malia’s eyes soften. She knows Kira’s new job at the local campus coffee shop has been less than stellar. The manager refused to let Kira put her pronouns on her name tag, which results in a lot of misgendering throughout the day. It helps that Kira’s coworkers respect them and don’t make a fuss, but Malia can still smell the unhappiness rolling off Kira when they come home. The only reason Malia hasn’t marched down to teach the manager a lesson or two with her fists is because Kira begged her not to.

“I just want to forget about Theo for a second,” Kira sighs, unbending their legs to ungracefully roll off the chair and flop onto the ground. Their long hair billows out around their head where they lay face down on the carpet, limbs spread eagle and oversized sweater floofing out around them. “Ugh, I feel like shit. Can we just, like, take a bath or something? I feel super gross.”

Malia still wants to storm out to strangle Theo with his own intestines, but she forces herself to take a calming breath in order to be the supportive girlfriend Kira needs right now. “Sure thing,” she says, breathing in and out in counts of seven until her claws recede.

Of course, that doesn’t stop her from still plotting Theo’s slow, painful death in the back of her head where Kira can’t reprimand her.

Malia jogs to the bathroom to plug the drain and turn on the faucet before returning to the living room where Kira is still sprawled out listlessly on the floor. Malia winces; she can’t even remember the last time either of them vacuumed. But Malia figures now is probably not the time to bring up the suspicious-looking stain near Kira’s elbow.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” Malia asks, kneeling beside Kira’s head.

Kira makes a high pitched groaning noise in response, which Malia decides to interpret as, “Yes, of course, Malia, and thanks for being so awesomely amazing.”

Scooping Kira up, Malia thanks her lucky stars that her datefriend is so small. Not that Malia wouldn’t be able to lift them if they were 6 feet tall and 100 pounds heavier, but it makes everything much easier. Kira clings like a limpet, pressing their face to Malia’s neck and sighing happily. Malia smiles fondly, hefts Kira to get a better grip, and plants an affectionate kiss on top of their head.

When Malia makes it to the bathroom, she sees the tub is in danger of overflowing. “Shit.” She places Kira on the closed toilet seat with a quick cheek kiss and scrambles to shut off the stream of hot water. Kira giggles, watching Malia slosh a bit over the edge when she plunges her arm into the water to drain some out.

Once the tub is at a decent level, steaming pleasantly and fogging up the bathroom mirror, Malia rifles through the cabinet under the sink. She finds something labelled _bath bomb_ that she thinks Lydia might have given her and Kira for Kira’s birthday, shrugs, and throws it in the tub. Malia lets out a startled yelp when the pink sphere starts to fizz and bubble and glares halfheartedly at Kira when they hide a laugh behind their hands. Then, for good measure, Malia empties half a bottle of bubble bath into the water too.

Finally, Malia turns back to Kira. She’s surprised, but not displeased, to see Kira has started stripping off their clothes. Malia can’t help but press a lingering kiss to Kira’s collar bone, thumb circling the smooth skin of their breast. But she immediately stops when Kira shakes their head and pushes Malia away.

“Not tonight,” Kira whispers.

Malia _wants_ , but she wants Kira to be happy more. “Okay.”

“Thanks.” Kira’s smile is small compared to the fireworks going off in Malia’s chest at the sight of it.

Malia peels off her own shorts while Kira struggles out of their shirt and binder. Malia hardly bats an eye, used to Kira sometimes feeling more masculine and choosing to wear it and other times not bothering.

She’s known Kira since high school, and the two dated even before Kira decided to change their pronouns and clothes. It was a little rocky at first with Kira going through intense periods of depression and mood swings as they struggled with their gender identity. Malia had been at a loss and hated seeing Kira perfectly fine one day and unable to get out of bed the next.

But then Kira started seeing a therapist and went to college. Even if it was only a community college a few hours away, it was in San Francisco, which meant getting out of the tiny town of Beacon Hills where Kira had no one like themself. The City College of San Francisco opened Kira’s eyes to the world they’d barely glimpsed in a myopic place like Beacon Hills.

Malia sees evidence of that transformation every day, loves basking in Kira’s newfound confidence, hates witnessing assholes like Theo tear Kira down after they’ve clawed their way to the surface.

As Kira steps into the rose-pink bubbles and squeaks a little at the heat, Malia feels something warm unfurl in her gut. Malia has never been good at goopy things like emotions, but watching Kira right now makes her wish she was. Kira deserves romantic odes and serenades and other gross, saccharine things Scott probably does for Stiles all the goddamn time. But all Malia can offer is, “You know I love you, right?”

Kira, practically buried in a mountain of frothy bubbles, smiles softly. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good, now move over.” Malia clambers into the tub. She grumbles at the glittery sparkles “getting all over the fucking place,” but sneakily smiles into the back of Kira’s neck anyway when she starts soaping up Kira’s back.

They’re both quiet after that: Malia focusing on meticulously scouring Kira’s shoulder blades, and Kira focusing on mentally picturing their bad day seeping out of them like poison to be banished away like their therapist taught them. Neither minds: Malia likes the feeling of Kira’s smooth skin and supple muscle under her fingertips, and Kira likes the way they feel lighter with every second.

Kira tips their head back, exhaling languidly when Malia’s fingers find their scalp. The balmy air hugs their skin, the faint slosh of water fades into the background, and Kira feels at ease. For all Malia tends to embody frenetic, wild energy, she’s always soothed Kira. It shouldn’t make sense, but somehow it always does.

It sounds inadequate for everything Kira feels, but they murmur, “Thank you,” anyways.

Even with werecoyote hearing, Malia almost misses Kira’s whispered words. They both finished washing up ten minutes ago, and Kira is now placing the finishing touches on Malia’s magnificent bubble beard.

Malia lazily opens her eyes. Her entire body tingles warmly even though the water has gone lukewarm by now. Her heavy-lidded gaze roves over Kira’s relaxed posture and bright eyes. “No problem,” she yawns. Their pruney hands intertwine and rest comfortingly on Malia’s stomach. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” Kira admits, resting their chin on Malia’s chest.

Their hips slot snugly between Malia’s thighs, but for once Malia isn’t looking to do anything frisky. She enjoys the residual heat from the cooling bath, the untroubled line of Kira’s shoulders.

“It’s probably pretty late. I’m sorry; I know you have class early tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t be,” Malia says easily. “Nothing is more important than you.”

Kira flushes bright red.

“Plus I’m failing calc anyways. Missing one class won’t hurt.”

Kira scowls and flicks water at Malia’s face. “Thanks for ruining the moment, jerk.”

“I mean it though,” Malia adds seriously, knowing that as smart as Kira is, they can be a bit dense when it comes to this stuff. “How you feel is important to me. If a nice bath and sleep deprivation is all I need to suffer through, I think I’ll survive.”

To Malia’s utmost horror, Kira starts tearing up again. They sniff furiously and wipe their eyes while Malia makes helpless, confused noises and silently asks the universe why she’s so terrible at being human.

“I—I didn’t mean—” Malia stammers, completely at a loss. She eventually just ends up pulling Kira desperately into a hug, awkwardly patting their back, and hoping for the best. “…I’m sorry?”

“N-no,” Kira hiccups, chuckling wetly and still scrubbing their face. “It’s okay. It’s happy crying; don’t worry.”

Malia can’t hear their heart skip, but squints suspiciously anyway. “Happy crying?”

“Yeah, like when Stiles’ dad proposed to Scott’s mom, remember?”

Malia nods in understanding. “So why are you happy crying?”

“I just—A few years ago, if you told me someday someone would go through all this trouble to make sure I was okay and in a good mental place, I wouldn’t have believed you.” Kira’s voice cracks on the last word. Malia chooses to believe them because she can’t smell anything sour like anxiety, even though that might have something to do with the overpowering artificial lavender scent of the bath.

“I’m glad you believe it now.”

“I’m glad too.”

Malia holds Kira close, relishes the thump of their pulse and their sweet scent of cherry blossom shampoo.

A little while later, Kira frowns. “Malia, did you just fart?”

“Damn, I thought it would be quieter.”

“I’m getting out now.”

“Okay, yeah, me too.”


End file.
